Second Bloom

by Sally Handley

  Manelli laughed out loud and got his phone out. “So you’re not denying it’s you in this photo taken this morning in the Hagel backyard?”

  Holly looked at the photo. “Yes, it’s me.”

  “All alone and no dog in sight?”

  Holly sighed. What’s the point of answering?

  “Officer Jensen, cuff Ms. Donnelly and read her her rights.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Holly hoped this was a joke and that he would say he just came by to scare her.

  “Wrong,” he said.

  The young patrolman approached and Lucky growled. He hesitated.

  ”Ivy, take her inside, please,” Holly said.

  Ivy got the dog by the collar and guided her inside closing the door. Officer Jensen stepped behind Holly and gently placed the cuffs on her. ”You have the right to remain silent…”

  “Did you hear that Ms. Donnelly?” Manelli cut in. “I suggest you exercise that right.”

  Holly’s cheeks burned. She turned her head, refusing to even look at him. And I was actually beginning to think I could trust you. At that moment she hated him.

  Manelli set off down the walk and opened the gate. Officer Jensen continued to read Holly her Miranda rights as he guided her behind Manelli. She didn’t say another word. She knew she’d screwed up, and there was nothing she could do but go along quietly.

  44 HOPELESS

  On the drive to the police station Holly’s mind was racing. She had so many unanswered questions. Who took that photograph of her in Edna's backyard? If someone was inside the house, wouldn’t they have called the police right then and there? If the police had been called, they would have arrived before she left, and she would have been caught red-handed.

  She was sure no one in the houses to the east and the south could see into the yard. That meant someone had to have been in the house to the west. That was the only possibility--the only place with a clear view of the Hagel backyard. Had the vacationing neighbors returned? Did they call the Hagels?

  The car transporting Holly pulled into the Pineland Park Police station lot and parked. As Officer Jensen assisted her out of the car, she shouted to Manelli who had parked a few spaces away. “Detective, can I talk to you?”

  Manelli grimaced, but walked over to her anyway. Holly looked at the patrolman and said, “Privately?” Manelli laughed under his breath, looked over at Jensen and said, “Give us a minute, would ya?”

  “All right, what is it?” he asked looking at his watch.

  “Look, I know I wasn’t completely honest with you in the beginning,” Holly began.

  “Another admission? This just keeps getting better and better,” Manelli taunted.

  “When I went in Mrs. Hagel’s backyard, I knocked on the door. No one was in that house. The only house with a view into the backyard was from the house next door on the west side, the house supposedly vacant because the neighbors left on vacation the morning of the murder.”

  “How do you know that?” Manelli asked.

  Holly decided further lies were futile. “Leonelle Gomez’s lawyer gave me a copy of the police report.” Manelli just shook his head, gritting his teeth.

  “Who called you?” she asked. When Manelli didn’t answer, she continued. “Because if it was the Hagels, someone called them and let them know I was there. The only place a picture could have been taken from is the house that’s supposed to be vacant.”

  Manelli started to walk away. “Wait,” Holly pleaded. “I know you think I’m just enjoying playing amateur sleuth. I’m not. This isn’t about me. It’s about Leonelle Gomez. No matter what the evidence shows, I know she didn’t kill Mrs. Hagel. Her lawyer is a total waste. He just wants her to plead guilty. She’s got no one on her side, and she’s got no chance if you consider this investigation closed.”

  “You’re right,” he said. Holly held her breath. Manelli turned back to face her. “I do think you’re enjoying playing amateur sleuth. Maybe a night in our holding cell will cure you of that.”

  Holly closed her eyes, leaning back against the patrol car, feeling any hope she was clinging to exit with the breath she exhaled. When she opened her eyes, Manelli had already walked away. Officer Jensen came beside her and escorted her into the building where she was handed over to a policewoman for booking.

  45 CLUE CONFIRMED

  Back inside, Ivy returned to the kitchen, uncertain what to do. She’d felt a bit relieved after Manelli told her she could come down to the station the next day at 9:00 AM to pick Holly up. He actually winked when he said Holly would be safer downtown at police headquarters. I knew he liked her.

  The empty house itself seemed subdued without Holly. Ivy sat down at the table and Lucky came over to her resting her head on Ivy’s knee. “Don’t worry, girl. Everything will work out. You’ll see.” Lucky’s tail thumped the floor.

  As she continued to pet the dog, Ivy spotted the matchbook inside its plastic cover on the counter. She remembered how excited Holly had been just a few hours ago, reveling in her discovery of a “clue”. That was Holly--always enthusiastic--ever the optimist. Her enthusiasm was contagious.

  Wait a minute. Why had Holly cut her off when she was about to mention the matchbook? If they had turned it over, maybe Manelli wouldn’t have arrested her. It didn’t make sense. Maybe she should call Manelli and tell him about the matchbook. No, maybe not. Holly had warned her never to call him again.

  Enough. Ivy jumped up. She’d go crazy just sitting around. The best thing she could do was keep busy. She went outside and spent the next few hours puttering around the flower beds. The work took her mind off Holly and the case--for a while at least. When her stomach started gurgling, she went inside. The clock said 4:17 PM. No wonder she was hungry. She’d skipped lunch.

  After she ate, she took a shower. The cool water relaxed her. As she dressed, she pondered what to do next. She really wanted to put on her nightgown, get in bed and pull the covers over her head, but it was too early. Whenever she felt like this, she always called Holly for advice. Without her to call, she felt quite lost.

  Ivy slowly walked downstairs, wondering how Holly was doing. Was she in a jail cell? She felt certain Detective Manelli wouldn’t put her in danger. But spending a night in jail, in the best of circumstances, couldn’t be pleasant. The more she thought about it, the more mixed her emotions became. What if she was in there with some tough women? Could she get hurt?

  All of the feelings she’d managed to keep at bay all day while she was gardening came crashing in on her. And it was starting to get dark. The phone rang, causing Ivy to jump. She crossed the kitchen and picked up the cordless phone, hoping it was Holly.

  “Hi, Ms. Donnelly. This is Elena.”

  “Oh,” Ivy replied. “Hi, Elena.”

  “I just wanted to know if…”

  “Elena, Holly was arrested this morning.”

  “Dios Mio!” she gasped. “Why? What for?”

  “She went into Mrs. Hagel’s yard and the police charged her with trespassing and obstruction of justice. I’m sorry, but I don’t think there is anything more we can do for you.”

  Elena sighed. “How could this happen? My mother and your sister are such good people. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know,” Ivy replied. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?” Elena asked.

  Fighting hard not to start sobbing, she replied. “I’m okay. You just take care of yourself and your brother and sister.”

  “Okay,” Elena answered. “But you call me if you need anything. Really. You have been so kind.”

  “I have to go,” Ivy said. “Good-bye, Elena.” Ivy hung up before Elena could say anymore and burst into tears. “What are we going to do, Lucky?” The dog had come over to her and put her head full in her lap. As Ivy patted her, the phone rang. I can’t talk to that girl again. But what if this time it is Holly? She inhaled deeply, not wanting to sound as if she’d been crying, and picked up t
he phone.

  “Hello.”

  Ivy was chilled when she heard a man’s voice say, “I saw you in the Hagel yard this morning.”

  All day Ivy had felt alternately anxious and sad. Now she felt fear--paralyzing, agonizing fear. Her hands started trembling and her muscles turned to jello. After a moment, she managed to ask, “Who is this?”

  “You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that I want what you picked up in the Hagel backyard.”

  “I didn’t pick up anything,” Ivy answered truthfully.

  “Look, if you don’t want to get hurt, you’ll just give me what you found.”

  “Sorry, but I gave it to the police,” she said.

  Ivy heard the phone disconnect. “No, no, no!” she said aloud, placing the handset back in its cradle. She stood up, put her left hand on her forehead and started pacing. She had to do something. This was a direct threat. This meant the matchbook cover was a clue. And not just a clue, but an incriminating clue. Holly was right. Damn her. She‘s always right.

  Suddenly what she had to do became clear. She lifted the plastic bag with the matchbook cover from the counter and ran downstairs. Turning on the computer and the scanner/printer, she said aloud “Think, Ivy, think!” She actually laughed picturing how annoyed Holly would be with her right now.

  Holly had shown her how to scan and save documents more than once, but every time she sat down at a workstation, she couldn’t remember the steps. She looked at the small screen on the front of the printer, relieved when she located the icon for scanning. She placed the matchbook face down on the printer/scanner and pressed the icon, following the directions that appeared. “Thank you, God,” she said when the word “scanning” appeared in a box on the screen. The next message said, “Document Saved.” “I’m going to have to trust you on that one,” she said to the computer.

  She repeated the process with the inside of the matchbook. After the “Document Saved” message appeared again, Ivy lifted the lid of the printer/scanner and carefully retrieved the matchbook returning it to the plastic bag. She shut off the computer and printer, and returned to the kitchen where she found Manelli’s card. When she called his cellphone number, it went straight to voice mail.

  “Detective, this is Ivy Donnelly. I have to talk to you about something Holly found in the Hagel backyard this morning. Please call me.”

  She scratched the back of her head. What should she do while she waited? How long should she wait before she called him again? Forget this. She picked up the phone, looked at the business card and tapped in the other number listed.

  “Pineland Park Police Station.”

  “Detective Manelli, please,” Ivy said.

  “Sorry, Ma’am, the Detective isn’t here. Can I help you?”

  “Yes. This is Ivy Donnelly. Could you please let the Detective know that I’m coming down to the station right now with a piece of evidence related to the Hagel murder?”

  “Ma’am, the detective won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Can it wait until then?”

  “No, it can’t. I received a threatening phone call, and I want to get this evidence to the police as soon as possible. I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Good-bye.”

  Ivy put the plastic bag in her pocketbook and got Holly’s car keys off the key rack in the hall. Lucky looked at her expectantly. “You stay here, girl. I’ll be back,” she said and headed to the garage. She got in the car, hit the automatic door opener on the visor, and backed the car out. “Damn!” she said, realizing she had left her driver’s license on the dresser in the guest bedroom. Turning off the ignition, she opened the car door, and heard Lucky barking ferociously. She got out of the car and that’s the last thing she remembered.

  46 THE NEIGHBORS

  After arresting Holly, Nick Manelli spent the afternoon testifying in another case at the courthouse in Paterson. At six o’clock he got in his car and checked in with Officer Rivera. She’d come up with a list of possible places Phillip Hagel could be staying. He told her he was on his way back to Pineland Park, and not coming back to headquarters. Phillip Hagel could wait until tomorrow. Instead he wanted to stop at the Hagel property and then go home.

  He’d been too focused in court to think about the Hagel case all day. On the drive back to Pineland Park, he started mentally clicking through his “to do” list. He had to see the Hagel backyard. What had Holly Donnelly really been doing there this morning?

  Manelli thought the Nowicki car crash had finally sidelined her. But then he also thought she’d begun to trust him to investigate this case and not just accept the trumped up evidence against Leonelle Gomez. Manelli was used to being misjudged by both suspects and victims. When the case was solved, she’d know the truth and, he hoped, change her mind about him. In spite of what she thought, he took no pleasure in arresting her. Well, maybe a little. Fat chance she was going to cooperate with him after this. But she’d left him no choice. Besides, she was safer in jail.

  Manelli parked in front of Mrs. Hagel’s, walked up the driveway and followed the walk along the west side of the house. Once in back, he followed the footpath and as he neared the back of the yard, he noticed a weed patch that appeared to have been trampled. He left the footpath and made his way through the weed patch, stopping at the dead groundhog. “Good girl, Lucky,” he said aloud. So they weren’t lying about the groundhog.

  Manelli returned to the footpath and followed the same route Holly had, stopping at the Gertrude Jekyll rose overgrowth. He turned around and headed back the way he came. At the back of the yard, he stopped and surveyed the surroundings. She was right. The only way someone could have seen her was from the house to the west.

  Manelli retraced his steps and walked back to the front of the house. In spite of the fact that he had no backup, he decided to go over to the neighboring house, and knock on the door. No answer. He was about to return to his car, when he saw someone coming out of the house next door to the vacant house. A woman in a hurry headed to the mini-van in the driveway. Manelli took out his badge.

  “Ma’am, excuse me. I’m Detective Nick Manelli. Could I ask you a few questions?”

  She clicked her tongue. “Sorry, I don’t have time,” she said. Looking over her shoulder, she grunted as a boy who looked to be about eleven years old, clad in jeans that hung below his considerable butt, came out the front door, shouting, “Wait for me!”

  “Now see what you’ve done?” The woman glared at Manelli. “I was trying to leave before he realized I was gone.”

  “Sorry, Ma’am. I just want to know if you’ve seen anyone enter the house next door during the last few days, in particular, yesterday or this morning.”

  “No,” the frazzled woman replied, as her chubby son opened the door. “Didn’t I tell you to stay home? I’m just going to get milk.”

  “I know, but I want ice cream.”

  “You’re not getting any. You’ve had enough to eat today.”

  “Ma’am,” Manelli cut in. “You’re sure you saw no one enter or leave the house next door last night or this morning?”

  “I already told you no,” she answered, addressing Manelli in exactly the same impatient tone she’d spoken to her son.

  “I did,” the son said as he struggled to stretch the seatbelt across his wide belly.

  “What?” both his mother and Manelli asked simultaneously.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I saw a guy go in the back door last night.”

  “What time?” asked Manelli.

  “I think it was around…” The boy hesitated looking at his mother who was just staring at him.

  “What time, son?” Manelli prompted.

  “Uh--I’m not sure,” he said.

  Manelli recognized the dodge. “Son, could you step out of the car. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  The boy looked at his mother. “You heard the officer,” she said. “Get out of the car.”

  As the boy fumbled with the seat belt, his mother turned to
Manelli, mouthing the words, “Thank you.” After he got out, she put the car in reverse and shouted out the window, “You go right back in the house as soon as the policeman is finished with you, you hear? I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  Manelli actually felt sorry for the boy whose mother rushed off, leaving him alone to talk to a policeman.

  “So now that your mother’s gone, tell me. What time did you see the man go into the house last night?”

  Pouting, the boy stood staring at the back of his mother’s car as it sped down the street. He looked up appearing confused, almost as if he’d forgotten Manelli was even there.

  ”What?” he asked.

  “What’s your name, son?” Manelli asked.

  “Bobby,” he answered.

  “Bobby, you said you saw someone enter the house next door last night. Do you know what time it was?”

  “You won’t tell my mother, will you?” the boy asked.

  “No. I won’t tell your mother. This is just between you and me.”

  “It was around two o’clock in the morning.”

  “That’s pretty late to be up. You sure you weren’t dreaming?”

  “I wasn’t dreaming,” Bobby replied puffing out his chest. “I stay up late all the time. After my mother falls asleep, I turn the TV on in my room.”

  “If you were watching TV, how did you see the man go into the house?” Manelli asked.

  “’Cuz I had to go to the bathroom. Before I got back in bed, I looked out the window and I saw the man goin’ in the back door.”

  “Can you show me which window is yours?” Manelli asked.

  “Sure,” he answered, leading the way to the side yard, where he pointed to a second-story window that had curtains with spaceships on them.

  Manelli looked from the window over to the neighboring yard. The window had a clear view of the neighbor’s back door.

  “How can you be so sure it was around two o’clock,” asked Manelli.